


Normal Is Boring

by NightlyEchoes



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 08:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11963307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightlyEchoes/pseuds/NightlyEchoes
Summary: Marik and Bakura had hoped to find a better life as they left Domino City. The normal life neither of them had. Buy a house, settle down.But, unfortunately, all that glitters is not gold.





	Normal Is Boring

**Author's Note:**

> For those few people who might have wondered what has happened to the story I was going to write for Datacow40's contest: this is it. It got a bit lost in my WIPs. I apologise.

Everything had sounded so perfect in the beginning: Getting out of the city until the first layers of dust had gently settled over their troubled pasts like freshly fallen snow. Just the two of them, until some things started to be forgotten or at least forgiven. At the same time it had been supposed to be their chance to start anew amongst unknown faces. It had been exciting. An adventure.  
But most of all, it had offered a personal freedom they had never truly experienced until then, far away from failed revenge plans and reincarnated Pharaohs.

Marik still remembered Bakura's warm body firmly pressed against his back as they had driven along the seemingly never-ending highways to yet unknown destinations, the loud roaring of his bike making every attempt at conversing pointless. Sharp nails had slightly dug themselves into the sides of his waist as Bakura had tried to hold on without restricting his freedom too much. Marik hadn't minded back then. It was the kind of pain he liked.

They had quickly left Domino City behind and, if they had cared about such petty little things, could have seen it get smaller and smaller until all that had been left of it were a few glistening lights in the golden fires of the setting sun. All they did care about, however, was the journey lying ahead of them and the new-found and still unfamiliar closeness they had shared back then.  
At some point, Marik could have sworn that he had felt Bakura laugh for whatever reason, the gentle vibrations as soothing as a cat's purr. He had never asked what had caused it.

They had driven for what felt like ages and only had stopped for gas, food or to rest for the night. It was just them and they were free as birds, moving on from hotel to hotel, staying wherever they pleased, doing whatever they wanted while Marik casually looked for a place where they could crash for more than one night and which they finally could call theirs. It was, after all, what Ryou had suggested to him, _‘Get a normal life. You both deserve it.’_ And in his opinion a "normal life" involved a house to live in.

He soon began to tire of his search, however. The cities they passed along the way all began to look the same -especially when it rained-, and the hotel rooms blended into each other until they were all a mix of blues and greens and wooden furniture. His budget for their potential residue grew smaller with every passing day and Marik knew that they had to act sooner than later unless they wanted to return to Ryou's old flat or move in with his siblings in Luxor and, out of a whim, he had bought the next best apartment he saw.

It was big enough to easily accommodate the both of them in a way that they could easily avoid each other if they felt like it, while still giving off a feeling of cosiness. Huge windows flooded every room with sunlight, a king-sized bed as well as a comfy couch in the living room offered enough room for nightmare-induced cuddle-sessions, and Bakura even had a corner where he could get comfortable and draw, a hobby he had picked up after his return. It was ridiculous and almost disgustingly domestic.

Marik enrolled at a nearby college and began to work a part-time job helping to translate a few library texts while Bakura did... well, whatever Bakura did. Marik didn't know. Every time he tried to coax an answer out of him, he got a half-assed answer about him having gotten a job as well and that he should be happy that the bills got paid.  
All he did know was that Bakura disappeared at night just to plop down on their bed in the morning, visibly exhausted from whatever he had been up to. He then complained about Marik being too loud when he had to got up and that was it. Not even the smell of freshly brewed coffee could get a rise out of him any more.

Time passed quickly and they quickly had fallen into something akin to a rhythm, one leaving as the other came home. They shared the bills and on rare occasions lunch.

Only as Marik had to quit his job to focus on his studies they finally saw each other more often again and every now and then Bakura would watch TV while Marik found himself leaning against him with a book open in his lap. The usual bickering aside, it was quiet. Content. Normal.

* * *

 

‘Do you need anything?’

Marik looked up from his notes to focus on Bakura who stood in the door frame, ready to leave. It took him a while to actually register that he had been asked a question, his mind still uncomfortably foggy from his current readings.

‘What?’

‘I'm getting something to eat. Do you need anything?’ Unblinking dark, brown eyes stared at him. Bakura was tired. He always seemed to be lately.

‘No, I'm fine.’

Bakura stayed there a little longer as if he was waiting for something that never came before he left, the door quietly snapping into its lock.

* * *

 

It wasn't hard to tell that their relationship had reached a quieter state. They woke up lying back to back instead of curled up in mess of entangled limbs and Marik kept telling himself that it was the result of trust and just being content with each other. No one else would be able to lie as close as Bakura did, after all. Even the thought of any other person touching his scars caused a cold shiver to run down his spine. And yet... kisses had become as fleeting as touches. But this was normal, wasn't it? It happened to all the couples after a while and both were tired when they were at home. At least, they didn't fight like the people on TV.

On rare occasions they managed to find the time and energy to go out. The cinema. Their favourite restaurant down the street. The local bar. Whatever it was which caught their fancy on that evening.  
Marik needed the fresh air and he was sure so did Bakura. Therefore, they sometimes took their sweet time getting there. They never had been ones to walk around with their arms wrapped around each other's waist, pulling each other close enough to make walking something that needed to be synchronised to work. No one of them felt the need to make anything official. Their relationship wasn't something that flew with bright banners. It was quiet and yet too complex for random bystanders to understand.  
Every now and then, however, Marik found his hand interlinked with Bakura's and as their eyes met, there was a unspoken question, the only answer being a gentle squeeze or the reassuring caress with a thumb. They were fine.

* * *

 

‘This is fucking bullshit!’ Bakura had slammed the door close with more force than necessary and hadn't returned the night. Marik had no idea where he had went and what he had done but he pretended that he didn't care until he finally returned the next day, still drunk, and the next thing Marik knew he was holding his hair while Bakura emptied his stomach into the toilet.  He had then helped him clean up and change clothes before he had dragged him to bed.

This had been the last time he remembered them actually falling asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

 

They had tried to play nice with others, to make friends, to socialise. Friendly chatter with their neighbours in the hallway, classmates of Marik which came over for studying together, game nights which quickly escalated because Bakura was caught cheating. Nothing lasted forever and life got quiet.

Of course, Ishizu still would call sometimes to ask about his life and he would say they were fine. And they were, weren't they? They had a nice place to live which they had slowly made their own.

* * *

 

Marik watched Bakura pace up and down the living room like a caged tiger while he ranted on and on about something Marik had lost interest in a while ago. Something about a certain shop? Gods if he knew.  
He took a sip of his coffee and began to wonder whether this was what he had wanted out of his life. The usual harsh remarks of his partner had died down a while ago and he had turned to hardly more than a nagging wife. Nag, nag, nag. His pride was gone, leaving behind a shadow of his former self.   
_'We are playing a role,'_ suddenly shot through his mind. Bakura had always been good to take up other roles during the many tabletop games they had played with Ryou and he himself had easily fooled everybody into trusting him by acting as 'Namu' (Bakura had once even joked that Marik used the same tone he had back then while chatting with their neighbours).  
Their life was an act. A game of playing pretend. _Happy couple living in a city apartment._ Whatever it was that people praised about a life like this, they had done it wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

A crash signalled him that he had dropped the mug but to him it sounded far, far away. Instead he focused on Bakura who had for once stopped in his tracks to stare at him, visibly startled by the sudden noise. Bright sunlight made him almost glow and Marik realised bitterly that he had never been made for this. Bakura was a creature created in the darkness. Forged in fire. As it was, Marik might as well have been dating Ryou. All bark but no bite.

‘Marik?’

Marik got up, grabbed the keys of his motorcycle and left, finally having had enough. He heard Bakura call his name once more but he couldn't care less.

* * *

 

‘How do I know whether we still love each other?’

Ryou blinked in confusion, visibly caught off-guard by the question, and stopped playing with the colourful straw which protruded from his cup.

‘You just _know_. You can feel it.’

Marik nodded as if he understood and stared at Bakura who was currently yelling obscenities at the cashier for not having the size of popcorn he wanted. They had arrived late at the cinema after getting into the rush hour (Marik's fault according to Bakura) and getting lost in the middle of nowhere after a poor attempt to find a way around it. Bakura's fault.

Ryou gave him a sensible pat on the shoulder.

‘The sparks will stop, Marik. That just happens after a while. You got used to each other's presence. You're comfortable with each other. Don't lose this because you mistake it for apathy. You both have to keep working towards each other.’

‘Are you telling me relationships are work?’

‘They need to be maintained. That is all.’

* * *

 

He drove way too fast that much he knew. Street lights flew past, some dangerously close to red but for the first time in ages he felt free again. There was nothing holding him back from driving him wherever he wanted. He could just leave and never return. Disappear into the night.

As he stopped at a gas station, however, he already began to miss Bakura's sharp-tongued comments as well as the warm weight against his back he had grown accustomed to.

* * *

 

Marik let himself into their apartment and saw Bakura standing at the window, his back facing him. Even though he knew that the other had heard him, there was no sign of recognition. A feeling of dread began to spread inside his chest as he slowly approached him to hug him from behind. He could only hope that it wasn’t too late for them already. Bakura didn't even twitch in surprise.

‘Where did you go?’

‘Out. Had to think.’

Bakura hummed as if he were carefully judging whether Marik’s statement was worth a reply. The silence which followed seemed to drag on forever and he could feel the other’s suspiciously calm breathing against his back until he finally spoke up again.

‘About us?’

‘About this. Everything.’

‘We're not made for this,’ Bakura murmured, turning around in his partner's arms to face him properly for the first time. ‘We're too broken to be normal.’

‘We have each other.’

Bakura laughed quietly but it sounded hollow. He reached up to play with a strand of Marik's wheat-blond hair just to give him something else to focus on than the desperation he saw in the other’s eyes.  

‘Do we, Ishtar? I can't tell sometimes.’

Marik sighed, momentarily reminded of all the times Bakura had run his fingers through his hair in an affectionate matter as things had still been fine between them, and out of reflex traced along his partner's jaw with a finger, brown eyes suddenly fixed on him. What once used to create a slight blush on the other's pale complexion now only earned him a disbelieving stare. When exactly had their life gotten this way? He couldn’t tell.

‘Do you still love me?’

Bakura lowered his gaze and fell silent. It had never been outspoken between the two of them. They had just _known_ and no one of them had been sure whether they were even capable of the kind of love everyone spoke of.

‘Tell me, Bakura.’ Marik wanted to hear it. _Needed_ to hear it. At least once. Just to know they were still okay. That things could still be fixed between them.

Bakura opened his mouth slightly, trying to answer but he couldn’t. Though he desperately wanted to say these three words, he just choked on the heaviness of their possible meaning. Throughout all his life he had never uttered them even once after he had lost his family and now he felt as if it was too late for him to learn them again. It had been fine before. Why did he need them now? At the same time he knew how urgent it was to get them out. Three little words. How hard could it be? He stared at his shaking fingers which had almost subconsciously dug themselves into Marik’s shirt, not wanting to let him go. The Egyptian was the closest to a family Bakura had.   
Before his mind was able to deteriorate further into a state of panic, he felt the warmth of the other’s body as he was pulled into a tight embrace and this time he actually leaned into the familiar touch, welcoming it. This was home. Always had been.  
He closed his eyes, a weak smile appearing on his face as he heard the slight crack in Marik’s voice.

‘You know, normal is boring anyway. Let's get out of here.’   


End file.
